


Gone

by fly_me_away



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Destiel - Freeform, Episode: s15e18 Despair - Castiel's Confession Scene, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Pain, Post-Episode: s15e18 Despair, but without the comfort, just hurt, kill me now, wooooo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-11
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 18:07:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 905
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27500512
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fly_me_away/pseuds/fly_me_away
Summary: “Why does this sound like a goodbye?”“Because it is.”I love you.Goodbye, Dean.Cas is gone, and Dean doesn't know how to deal with it. He has too many feelings, and he doesn't know how to feel about all of these feelings. *insert Crowley being a mood here*
Relationships: Castiel & Dean Winchester, Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 6
Kudos: 68





	Gone

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first thing I've written for Supernatural, because after this last episode, I just had to. This show has caused me so much emotional pain, and so I felt I should inflict some as well!
> 
> btw: here's the link to this fic on tumblr, in case you want to head over and give me a like :)  
> https://yellow-white-purple-black.tumblr.com/post/634452325366480896/why-does-this-sound-like-a-goodbye-because-it

_“Why does this sound like a goodbye?”_

_“Because it is.”_

_I love you._

_Goodbye, Dean._

When Dean finally came back to himself, the first thing he noticed was how cold the bricks pressing into his back were. It was funny - all this time, and he had never noticed how cold this room of the bunker was. He had never quite appreciated it enough.

The second thing he noticed was the silence. It was just as cold as the bricks, if not colder, and as soon as he noticed it, it became oppressive and heavy. Empty.

The third thing he noticed was the ringing in his ears as he finally lifted his head from his hands and looked around.

The fourth thing he noticed was how empty the room was. It was clean and undisturbed, like nothing had happened at all. And that was the problem, the emptiness; it started in the room, on the outside, but soon it was inside too, like a void growing slowly in the back of Dean’s throat.

The fifth thing he noticed wasn’t until later, after he had stood up and, on autopilot, gone to find himself a glass of whiskey. He had looked at his reflection in the glass, wavering and fragmented, and noticed a blotch of red on his shoulder, the one that Cas always grabbed.

It was a handprint.

He had stared at it in the bathroom mirror (he had gotten to the bathroom somehow, although he found that he couldn’t quite remember it) and his skin had tingled with the reminder of another handprint from so many years ago. He remembered the dirt under his nails and the ringing in his ears, and somehow, it felt like home.

He put his own hand over the mark and gripped it tight, closing his eyes and trying to pretend he could feel the rough warmth that was there not too long ago sliding under his palm, alive and strong and holding him back. It didn’t work.  
That was the sixth thing he noticed: he was alone, and this time, it was for real.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Somehow, he made it to the Impala and drove to Sam. He didn’t remember most of the drive, just random flashes of clarity, like when he saw a crow fly away from the side of the road and wondered if Cas still had wings.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

There was no body to burn. Just emptiness, a blank space where something should have been.

Dean insisted on building a pyre anyways, when they got back to the bunker, because screw what Cas had said, he was angry and he needed to burn something. So he took out his rage on the trees in the area, and when that didn’t work, he just stood and stared at the flames and clenched his jaw while his nails dug red crescents into his palms and the sky darkened around him. 

After some time had passed, Sam had turned away, muttering something about research and whiskey. Dean didn’t react - to be honest, he had kind of forgotten Sam was even there. After a moment, Jack turned a puppy-eyed look full of concern and sorrow towards Dean, and then followed Sam. Dean still didn’t react.

He just stared into the fire, still trying to catch up to everything that had happened. Eileen was dead. Everyone they knew was dead. Cas was… gone. 

He still couldn’t quite bring himself to even think the word, because if he thought it, if he acknowledged it at all, then it would be real, and it couldn’t be real. He needed it to not be real. If he just ignored it for long enough, he could wake up and Cas would be back and it would have all been a dream, just one long bad dream, because Cas couldn’t really be gone.

_I love you._

_Goodbye, Dean._

_I love you._

Dean was staring up at the dark sky now, Cas’s words echoing in his head.

_I love you._

_Goodbye, Dean._

He noticed distantly that there were hot tears streaking down his face. He ignored them, too. Being numb was easier.

_I love you._

_Goodbye, Dean._

He looked at the smoke rising from the dying fire, and for just a moment, blurred by tears, it looked for all the world like a pair of two black wings stretching out against the moon and stars. Then he blinked, and they were gone - just clouds of ash and dust silhouetted against the night.

_Goodbye, Dean._

He looked back to the fire, and now he was angry again, because he didn’t know how to be anything else. _Cas, you selfish bastard,_ he thought, _what about me?_

_What am I supposed to do now?_

_How the hell am I supposed to feel?_

He was full-on crying now, and at some point, he had started speaking out loud, screaming into the empty black night. 

“What about me, huh Cas? What am I supposed to do? Huh? What the _hell_ am I supposed to do?” 

He looked around for something to punch. There wasn’t anything. Just empty. _Fuck._

_Goodbye, Dean._

Cas was gone and Cas wasn’t supposed to be gone, because Dean was feeling too much and he didn’t know how to feel about feeling so much, so he just fell to his knees and glared at the flames and wished for something he could never have.

_I love you too, you son of a bitch._


End file.
